imaginary_golux | Entries tagged with me

So Best Beloved and I were talking over dinner, as we do, and we got to discussing the scientific method as it relates to right-wing religious wingnuts. I was thinking specifically about a thing from a while back, where a prominent wingnut said something about all porn turning people gay - don't even ask, I dunno - and thinking, okay. Back when I was going through puberty and figuring out my sexual orientation, my thought process went something like this: 'Data point: I am attracted to men. Data point: I am also attracted to women. Conclusion: You know, I think I may be bisexual. Huh, who'd've thunk.'

Whereas if you're in one of those areas where being gay is not an acceptable option, that process might go: 'Conclusion: I cannot be gay. Data point: I am attracted to men. Extrapolation: Some horrible outside force is tainting me and turning me towards the dark side, aiee!'

Which...no. That is not how science works. You're allowed and encouraged to have hypotheses, because those give you a starting point, but when the data does not back up your hypothesis - and I remember this clearly from science class! - you write up a conclusion which says, in essence, "Well whaddaya know, I was wrong, I thought X was true but pretty clearly X is not true, and Z might well be true instead, we should do some more experiments." And then you come up with a hypothesis about Z and start testing *that*.

Now, this is not nearly so easy with self-image and sexuality as it is with chemicals in a lab, and I quite understand that. But I think a lot of things would benefit from being approached with the scientific method: I think X is true. I will gather lots of data to see if I am correct. If I am not correct, well, drat. Better find a new hypothesis!

Aieeeee!

...Just finished phone interview. Am sure they are the most nerve-wracking things in ever. Pretty sure not getting job, but that's ok, I survived the interview, that means I get points, right?

...AUGH.

Dear gods, in slightly under a week I am going to have my Master's in Library Science.

...eek.

...Anyone know of job openings for shiny new young adult librarians anywhere in the Northeastern United States or Hawaii?

...Does this mean I'm a real adult now, or does that wait until this coming June when I get married?

I've been spending some time trying to get most of my stories up on AO3. Nowhere near done, of course. It's not that I'm not prolific, it's that I'm not organized!

But anyhow the short version is, there's more than 80 of my stories up on AO3, so if it's not on this blog it's probably over there.

THE HP FANFIC FAN POLL AWARDS - SUMMER ROUND 2012
Overview FAQ / How to Vote
Voting period: May 1st - June 30th, 2012
Winners announced: by July 15th, 2012

For two stories no less! I has a squee. Day of the Strawberry Jam and Elegance both got nominated. I guess vote if you want to? I'm just astonished at the noms.

Occasionally I have travel nightmares. You know, lost my ticket, missed my plane, not packed and it's time to leave. Standard stuff.

They do not usually involve my having to translate a page of Old English poetry relating to the Matter of Britain in order to prove I know what I'm talking about when I say the Danes are attacking England.

...My brain, it is a strange place to live.

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So now I have a Dreamwidth, and I suppose I should learn how to cross-post...

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Well, it's official. I actually managed to keep it alive for most of a month, but the lavender plant has, alas, gone to the great garden in the sky. Hopefully Best Beloved's father will refrain from giving me any more plants.

The thing is, I forgot to water it. But I'm actually pretty good at remembering to, say, feed my cat. Or my Best Beloved. But I forget to feed myself, sometimes. So I figure what it is, is that I only remember to feed things that ask to be fed. If someone gave me a plant that woke me up every morning going "MEEOOOW FEED MEEEEEE YOWWWWL!"...I'd remember to feed it.

...Someday I hope to have kids. Perhaps it is a good thing that babies cry a lot.

Just watched Despicable Me for the first time (long wait list at the library), and oh god, IT'S SO FLUFFY!!!

Also utterly adorable and I wanted to hug it.

Also, whoever was writing those kids...has kids. Because those were very childlike children.

And I want a Minion. That is all.

I just re-watched Disney's Robin Hood. I have many thoughts, but first and foremost among them: Lady Cluck is all kinds of awesome.

Also, historical accuracy, what historical accuracy? And who thought it was a good idea to let all the townspeople know where the secret camp is? And yes, that one dance-scene is mostly rip-offs from, among other things, the Jungle Book and the Aristocats.

But mostly, Lady Cluck is AWESOME.

My Best Beloved's father (a charming man) has, in a fit of misplaced generosity, given me a lavender plant in a cute little pot. This would not be a problem except that I have a hereditary brown thumb. My family makes sure we have a nice garden by leaving everything strictly alone except for watering it occasionally. So giving me a lavender plant is...well, the lavender plant may not be long for this world.

This does make me feel a little like the Dread Pirate Roberts, though: "Good night; good work. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

Five days and it's not dead yet! Anyone care to take bets on its life-expectancy?

(As a side note, I’ve been trying to decide what to call my boyfriend on this blog, because obviously I’m not going to use his real name, do I look stupid? and finally settled on calling him my Wolf. And yes, this is possibly related to the pretty pretty icon. Er. My kinks, I has them?)

Anyhow. I was listening to my co-workers at one of my jobs (I have three, kill me now) talking about their respective male significant others, and noticed something a little disturbing. When I talk about my Wolf, in public or in private, it’s usually to mention something good about him – he makes me hot chocolate, he did the dishes, he’s funny, he has better dress sense than I do. When my co-workers talk about their male SOs, it’s often…not as complimentary. They’re insulting, they’re hypochondriacs, they’re hard to get on with, they don’t like my friends…

I find this a little disconcerting, really. I keep wanting to say, If he’s that unpleasant, whyinell are you with him? What good points does this man have? What made you take up with him in the first place?

And then I realized that this is linked to something I’ve ranted about before: the idea that all men are uncommunicative boors, and all women are brainless bimbos, and really they have nothing in common except occasionally sex (and even then the women have to be pressured into it), so just hook up with someone attractive and deal with the fact that you have nothing in common and don’t really like each other. Which is BULLSHIT. But it’s infected so many of us. There’s this idea that if a man wants you – any man – it’s a compliment; that if a man is attractive or rich, or if you’ve been with him for long enough, you should just stay with him because he’s good enough. Who wants an equal? Just go for any available penis!

And…I think that’s utter bullshit. I think we should all – male, female, or other – be pairing up with people who make us happy, who make us feel safe and warm and fuzzy inside, who we can talk to. Who love us, and who we love. And if that means that we don’t go for the first available person with the socially-approved genitalia who makes cow eyes at us, then good! Reach for the sky, people! There are good people out there – I’ve met them, I’ve gone to school with them – and if we’d just…oh, bah. What I’m trying to say is, we shouldn’t settle. None of us. And if our SOs aren’t making us happy, if each time we see them there’s a sense of doom or sadness or tension (that isn’t sexual), then we should feel free – even encouraged – to move on, to find someone who makes us HAPPY.

My Wolf makes me happy, and that is why I am planning on staying with him for the foreseeable future, as long as he’ll have me. I really just wish some of the people around me had the same sort of happiness, and weren’t just settling for…less.

ETA: (As a side note to the side note, and in order to demonstrate respect for my partner and fairly good communication skills, and also that I am occasionally an ass, I shall point out that my SO had much rather be referred to as Best Beloved than Wolf, and that therefore, henceforth I will be calling him Best Beloved. I am sure this will thoroughly confuse all...two...people regularly reading this blog. Hi guys! You're awesome!)

I confess that one of my great faults is my inability to conceive of other people not enjoying something I enjoy. I think this is a fairly common fault, really; we're all baffled when a friend or relative doesn't like tomatoes, or ping-pong, or whatever it is that pleases us but not them. I confess that I'm also really bad at understanding why people don't know things I know, which is why I'm actually a fairly bad English teacher: I know English language and grammar well enough that I can't explain them.

A few days ago, I realized that most of the world doesn't like to read as much as I do. This was an astonishing and terrifying revelation. I love to read. I spend most of my spare hours reading - books, blogs, fanfiction, the newspaper, the random Avon catalog someone left in the break room, the back of a cereal box if I must. A day in which I do not read is not a good day for me. Reading is very nearly as integral a part of my psyche as breathing is.

So the realization that there are people out there who, by choice or chance or inability, do not read, was shocking. How could it be so? Being the rather introverted person I am, I overthought this, and eventually came to some conclusions:

First, that I am a bit strange. But then, I knew that already. Normal people do not write smutty Disney fanfiction, or make small 'gneep' noises when happy.

Second, that my love of reading is in large part a product of the fact that my parents surrounded me with books from a very young age. They had the leisure and interest to read to me just about daily, from around the time of my birth, and so I learned early on that books were fun. My teachers, for the most part, were also supportive of my reading habits - my kindergarten teacher gave me Redwall as a gift.

And third, that clearly there is a flaw in our culture, or our school system, or both, because an incredibly small percentage of the people around me love to read. My significant other reads (I most likely couldn't bear a lover who didn't), and most of my friends are voracious readers, but as far as I can tell, the vast majority of the common folk of my country get neither pleasure nor purpose out of reading. And personally, I feel that this is wrong, not merely because I love to read, but because the written word is one of the best ways to communicate across generations and cultures; because the written word is part of what makes people people, not merely upright apes; because not reading deprives a person of the innumerable worlds, peoples, events, and emotions that make up the world of imagination. Oh, other forms of media provide similar stimulation, but few of them also provide the consumer with the option to make up their own pictures, their own voices, their own image of what is going on.

To sum up: books spur imagination and are a window to wonders. Reading is good - why isn't everyone doing it?